Duck Duck Ghost (24 page)

The shock came when Wolf’s hands didn’t slide down to part his ass. Instead, they slid over Tristan’s shoulders, where he began to work at soothing the taut muscles along Tristan’s spine.

“What the fuck are you—?” Tristan lifted his head and tried to catch Wolf’s attention. “Not what I—”

“Put your head down and let me do this for you.” Wolf continued to softly dig into the hard knots Tristan didn’t know he had on his back. “When was the last time someone massaged your back for you?”

“Considering you’re the first one to get his dick inside of me, what makes you think someone else has ever been near me while I’m naked?”

“Then definitely let me do this for you, babe,” he murmured as he kissed a spot between Tristan’s shoulder blades. Wolf’s faint stubble feathered a tickle on his skin. Then the scrape of whiskers grew deeper when the man’s mouth moved down his spine, his lips catching on every ridge of Tristan’s backbone. “Try not to fall asleep too deeply. Because I fully intend to take advantage of a boneless Thursday Addams.”

“It is so silly when you call me that. But okay.” He was already drowsy, and Tristan swore he’d fight off the languid tendrils creeping through his bones. It was hard going, especially when Wolf did a delicate dance over his bruised ribs, and instead of the soft-sharp ache he’d come to expect, there was a rolling release of pressure, and he could hitch a breath in without his side tightening up.

“See, one of the best things about being a Kincaid is that you get dragged to places most people never see.” Wolf’s husky voice lapped over him, as hot and gentle as his fingers as they moved Tristan’s aches and pains out of his body. “By the time I was ten, I’d already been to twenty countries. But the best part was, I sucked up as much education as I could wherever I could find it. Including how to give a very good massage.”

“Can’t think,” Tristan mumbled. “Lost my tongue.”

“Maybe I should help you find your tongue,” Wolf suggested. “What do you think?’

“Good idea.” He shifted, too loose-limbed to do much more than flop halfway over. Staring up into Wolf’s hooded blue eyes, Tristan gave his lover a goofy grin. “Need help doing this too. Might even just lie here while you take advantage of me.”

“Now where would the fun be in that?” Wolf slid him over the rest of the way. The bed dipped as he lay down on his side next to Tristan, his oil-slick fingers tracing odd shapes on Tristan’s firm belly. “You awake enough for the main course?”

“Wolfgang Starfox Kincaid, I’ve been waiting for the main course since before we had breakfast.” Tristan hooked his hand around Wolf’s nape and pulled him in for a kiss. A fit of chuckles hit him, and he tried to swallow them but instead ended up choking on his own spit. Clearing his throat, Tristan wiped the silly off his face and said in as serious as a tone as he could, “I’m sorry. What was the question again? Something about food?”

“God, never ever use my full name again,” Wolf laughed into his mouth. “Ruins the moment. Hell, it ruined my childhood. I’d rather not have to fight it off as an adult.”

“You could change it, you know.”

“Nah, that would hurt my mother’s feelings, and I can suck it up for her.” Wolf’s hand was on the move again, and one particularly adventurous finger traced down the length of Tristan’s stiffening cock. “How about if we work on making this as soft as it can go?”

“So long as it’s the long way around.”

“Well yeah. Kind of like through the woods and to Tristan’s secret happy place with a picnic basket trip.” The man’s fingers were deadly, because no sooner did he find the tip of Tristan’s cock than he flicked his nail over Tristan’s seed-damp slit, and the ping of pain was a soft promise of what would come later. Wolf smeared some of Tristan’s come onto his finger and brought it to his mouth, giving himself a taste of Tristan’s spend. “God, I really like your secret happy place.”

“You’re getting cheesier than a plate of poutine.”

“What do you know about poutine?” Wolf was rooting around the sheets for something which, from the delighted murmur he made, Tristan gathered he’d found.

“It always looked interesting. Like things you’d eat at a fair,” he said with a faint hint of embarrassment. “I’ve never actually been to a fair. Or a carnival. Always wanted to, but—”

“I’ll take you to the biggest fair I can find,” Wolf promised as he coated his fingers with more lube. “And Mardi Gras. And Carnevale in Venice. But right now, I’d really just like to take
you
.”

“Cheddar breath,” Tristan teased. “Sooooo much cheeeeese. Like cheap greasy nachos.”

He stopped laughing when Wolf’s fingers pressed against his cleft, demanding more from Tristan than a chuckle and a smile. He gave Wolf the smile anyway and rolled over onto his back. Wolf rubbed up and down the heat of his parted cheeks, his mouth smoking a line of kisses down Tristan’s chest. When Wolf’s teeth found one of Tristan’s nipples, the torturing nibbles were the right mingling of pain and pleasure to fill Tristan’s cock with a hard excitement. Groaning, he lifted his knees up and out, begging Wolf to fill him with his long fingers.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he said between sucklings of Tristan’s nubs. “And once I get you primed, it’s going to be my cock.”

He’d lost count of how many times he and Wolf’d made love. He shouldn’t have. It was still too new—too raw of an experience to have become normal, and he’d lost that number a few weeks ago, in a rush of a long night and slow kisses. Not that Wolf touching him would ever be truly normal. Some part of Tristan’s mind wanted to count, to keep that number growing and secreted away in his heart, but like the rain, he couldn’t imagine trying to hold in a storm while standing in the middle of it.

But oh, he knew that burn. That delicious, aching stretch of something slick forcing his body open and then curving up to stroke his most intimate places. He couldn’t stop arching his back, riding the length of Wolf’s fingers as they intruded past his rim. Even with the sleek glide of oil, his skin burned at the man’s touch.

“Do you like that, baby?” Wolf whispered into his ear, and Tristan could only nod. “Lie back and just… take it. Let me do you. Let me see you like this.”

He wouldn’t last long. Hell, even if he had an eternity with the man, Tristan didn’t think his body would ever gain much control over his climaxes. It seemed like only a few seconds sometimes between when Wolf entered him to when his orgasm ripped through him, and in the times he’d buried himself into Wolf’s tight heat, he couldn’t say he lasted much longer.

Wolf assured him they did fine. And the porn Tristan pointed out as evidence of his defects were as much smoke and mirror as a magician sawing his assistant in half. Since he didn’t have the answer on how
that
was done either, Tristan could only nod and hope for the best.

And from Wolf’s pleased expression, Tristan knew his best certainly was good enough for the man who could play him with a stroke of a finger and a lick of his tongue.

There had to be at least three of Wolf’s fingers in him, and Tristan strained to hold back his release, grabbing at the base of his shaft to hold himself in. Wolf’s dark chuckle was enough of a clue that he was enjoying teasing Tristan, and the next time Wolf came in for a kiss, Tristan captured Wolf’s lower lip in his teeth and bit down lightly, shaking the plump to get Wolf’s attention.

“Now,” Tristan muttered through the bite of Wolf’s lip. The slide of Wolf’s fingers leaving him made him whimper, but he rode out the emptiness, knowing he’d be filled soon. “Get in me now, Wolf. Before there’s nothing of me left.”

He let go. He had to if Wolf was going to move down between Tristan’s legs and take him. Wolf moved slowly, drawing out every gliding touch until Tristan thought he’d scream in frustration. By the time Wolf’s hands were under his thighs and raising Tristan’s legs up over his shoulders, Tristan’s cock was weeping its need.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, Tristan,” Wolf whispered, drawing his fingers down over Tristan’s cock for another taste of his seed. It was maddening to see the man’s seed-daubed fingertips run over his tongue, especially since Wolf drew his tongue out to lap at the milky cream. Winking, he dropped his hand down and guided his thick cock to the edge of Tristan’s hole. “Hold onto me, babe, and whatever you do, never ever let me go.”

T
HERE
’
D
NEVER
been a man he’d wanted to be in so much as Tristan Pryce. Hell, if Wolf was going to be honest—blazingly unforgiving and honest—he’d admit he just wanted Tristan against him—touching him—even just near him.

Although, Wolf told himself as he bent forward to lick at the dapple of moisture built up on Tristan’s sleekly defined chest, being inside of Tris was certainly his idea of heaven, and he’d like to spend as much time bringing pleasure to his aggravatingly sexy lover as he could.

He loved the first hiss of breath Tristan always made when he pushed his cock into him and then the small panting mewls when Wolf paused to let him get used to the intrusion. Those sounds were so Tristan, the few constants of his wildness in bed, and Wolf found himself listening for them amid their joining.

Even as his own toes curled when Tristan’s ass closed in on him and seemed to suck the very breath out of Wolf’s lungs because Tristan felt so damned fucking good on him.

Tristan’s legs pushed him down and in. Hooked over Wolf’s shoulders, the man’s powerful limbs were lined with muscles built up from rambling the Grange’s grounds with his wolfhound by his side, and he used them instinctively, drawing Wolf as close as he could when Wolf leaned over him.

Their bodies knew what to do. They
fit
. No matter how they were arranged, Wolf and Tristan fit together and found delight in pressing skin against skin or even the barest finger brush against the palm of the other’s hand. Every kiss felt like sex, and each time they tumbled together to make love, it felt as if they were discovering the first kiss over and over again.

It scared him. Wolf could feel the fear welling up in him as strong as the rush of his climax boiling down in his balls. But when Tristan’s eyes bled gold with desire for him, Wolf’s fear whispered away, and all that remained was Tristan enclosing him.

And the unfamiliar, strange happiness Tristan spread through him.

Tristan’s hole refused to let him go. The edges of his entrance held on, working around Wolf’s cock in a twisting hug before Wolf could draw out all the way.

“God, you….” Tristan groaned and dug his fingers into Wolf’s shoulders. He threw his hips up to meet Wolf’s thrusts, folding himself up to take Wolf as far in as he could.

Tristan’s long cock wove about in the space between their pressed-in bellies, rolled in tight when their bodies met, then slid around in its own spilled smear when released. Wolf reached down into that tight, fragrant space and caught up as much of Tristan’s spill as he could, slathering it onto the man’s chest so he could dip his head down and taste it.

It was like a burst of stars—as if he’d gone outside as the night sky fell in on him, and he’d thrown his head back to drink his fill.

For Tristan, he would gladly become Tantalus just for the taste of that star-tinseled sky.

He began to move, harder and finding the sweet spot Tristan’s body hid from him. The length of his cock glided up and down on Tristan’s core, and his lover shuddered with each stroke, his knuckles turning white as he held onto Wolf’s upper arms.

They grunted and panted, their hips slamming hard against bone and skin until Wolf was sure they’d break apart into a million pieces. He knew he was close, and Tristan was even nearer because the clench on his cock tightened to an impossible grip, and Tristan’s limbs stiffened, nearly unseating Wolf.

“Bring yourself over, babe,” Wolf grunted. “Let me watch you. God….”

His lover’s eyes were blown out, the black swallowing up nearly every bit of color. It was as much of a sign of Tristan’s peak as his leaking cock or the death grip of his legs on Wolf’s shoulders. Tristan struggled to find his cock, laughing a bit when Wolf kissed the corner of his mouth, then held Tristan’s dick still until his lover’s fingers covered his.

They found a rhythm there too. A stroke up, then a stuttering fall back down to the trembling base. Wolf’s own balls roiled and pulled, tucking up into his hollow. The slap of their wet skin and the scent of their sweat perfumed the air, a delectable teasing brine to counter the sweetness of the rain outside.

“Love you.” Tristan’s whisper was faint, but Wolf caught it, and it broke him.

Letting go of Tristan’s cock, he grabbed his lover’s hips and plunged down into him. His strokes grew shorter, harder until he lost any sense of being apart from Tristan’s hot clench. He heard Tristan gasp, then a splash of salty bittersweet slapped him in the face. Satiated, Wolf let himself fall, breaking loose into the sheath of his lover’s body.

He rode the fire erupting between them, rocking into Tristan’s core and drawing out every satisfied mewl and sigh left inside of his tousled lover. He wrung them out, gently taking Tristan in hand to milk him a stroke or two while Tristan shuddered out the rest of his climax.

They dove down together. The short distance of a roll onto the sheets was like wings catching up around them to soften their fall.

“God, I love you, Thursday.” Wolf kept his arms around Tristan’s sweaty body, not caring if they smeared the sheets with their spend. He’d do laundry if he had to. Anything he could do just to hold Tristan for a few moments more. “You make me crazy sometimes, but damn if that doesn’t make me want you more.”

“If you want me any more, neither one of us is going to be able to walk.” Tristan was panting, and he worked the words out between heavy breaths. “I think we moved the bed. We’re in the middle of the room.”

“Well then, time to fuck me, Tris.” Wolf let go of his lover and sat up. “Looks like we’re going to have to have a round two to see if we can move it right on back.”